A Federation of Cassandras
by TwiCanonFodder
Summary: In which Renesmee runs away


Alice Cullen was reaching for a purple Hermès scarf when her entire day disappeared.

None of the humans standing near her noticed the slight widening of her eyes or the way her tiny white hand faltered in midair. To their slow, weak senses the enigmatic woman's movements were fluid as she plucked out a plum-colored piece of silk and twirled in the direction of the register. Even those well acquainted with her might not have noticed her disquiet; her features were entirely obscured by a broad-brimmed black hat and the bottom of her jaw was barely visible beneath its long shadow.

The other shoppers glanced sideways at her as she stood in line swathed head to toe in expensive black. It was a strange outfit for July in Paris, but none of them felt inclined to point this out to one another; they had a strange feeling she would hear them.

She conducted her purchase in silence, and the clerk, usually completely unfazed by intimidating people, was so overcome by nervousness and discomfort that she dropped the woman's black card twice before managing to swipe it. She passed it back with trembling fingers and found the courage to look up, but her "Merci Madame…" faltered on her lips. The woman was already gone.

ooo

"Dorianne! I'm leaving for lunch!"

Renesmee groaned and let her head fall back against the wall behind her. With one very French gust of air she rose to her feet, dusted the knees of her skirt, and made her way to the front of the store, where Abdul stood with his hand on the doorknob. He gave her an apologetic smile.

"I know you hate working the front at noon, but now that Fatima…"

"I know." She said quickly. "It's fine. I don't mind."

Abdul swallowed. "Thank you." He said quietly, and ducked out the open door.

Renesmee sighed and stared around her at the small, dingy shop. Abdul was right- she did hate working the front at noon. Her life these days was about invisibility, and there was something about standing behind a counter in the middle of the day that was a bit too _open _for her current tastes, even if she was holed away in an environ thousands of miles from her family. They could find her even here, if she wasn't careful.

The call to prayer echoed, warbling, from minaret to minaret as Renesmee took her place at the register. She glanced out the window behind her and saw that the sun had come out while she had been in the back room; her arms were glowing slightly. She held up one pale, shining hand for closer inspection, worrying as always that someone somewhere would be concerned that she looked a bit radioactive on days like this. No one had ever mentioned it, though, and she supposed she had current trends in fashion to thank for that. Maybe she just looked like she'd had a long bath in some expensive, luminous anti-aging product.

_This is ridiculous,_ she thought, dropping her hand and looking again through the grimy window. _There isn't even anyone on the street._ The Rue de Sevran was empty of even the usual loafing youths, not that any of them ever bought books anyway. It wouldn't make the slightest difference if she weren't standing right here- she could hear the bell anywhere in the tiny store. She scooted out from behind the counter and wandered through the shelves, looking for something else to do.

No one had organized the novels in weeks- since Fatima's abrupt "disappearance" both Abdul and Renesmee had let too many important things slide by. The Nigerian fiction section was completely out of order- someone had thumbed through almost every title and left the books scattered all over the dusty shelves. Renesmee suspected the bearded American who had tried to flirt with her.

Cursing him and all other coarse, self-satisfied men, she picked the books up and piled them neatly, so she could organize them by author. She paused when she saw the blue cover of _Purple_ _Hibiscus_ at the top of the stack, and felt an ominous creeping of memory. Carlisle had given her a copy of it once.

"_This is IB standard in the UK, but heaven knows it might still not challenge you. I've never seen someone so small and so intelligent." he said, golden eyes warm. She took the book from him with an eager grin and read the back cover. _

"_Is it good?"_

"_Absolutely. But that's not the only reason I've…" _

_Carlisle was ineloquent so rarely that Renesmee lifted her eyes in surprise at his silence. He was looking right at her. "It's important for you to know how much evil can be done in the name of God, Nessie." _

_ She just looked at him, tilting her head to the side. She had a strange feeling that she was missing something._

_ "You're such a unique mix of adult and child that I sometimes wonder how to tell you things like this." He said, staring intently into her wide eyes. When she still didn't speak, he smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Read it, and do tell me what you think." _

Renesmee slammed _Purple Hibiscus_ back into its place on the shelf and tried with all her might to push back the vortex of memory. She couldn't afford things like this.

_Nigerian fiction, done. Arabic language fiction, done._ She worked manically, attempting to occupy every corner of her high-capacity mind with the task at hand. She was reaching for a set of Chinua Achebe's critical essays, determined to sort the nonfiction section as well, when the doorbell tinkled.

It happened in a split second. She straightened at the sound of the bell, and then stiffened as a terrifyingly familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine wafted towards her.

_No._

_Oh, God._

Her head snapped up to see exactly what she feared- her favorite aunt framed in the doorway like a beautiful nightmare, yellow eyes burning under a giant black hat. Renesmee crouched slightly, prepared to spring sideways and escape through the back, but before her feet could leave the ground she felt a powerful hand grip her lower jaw.

"Don't even think about it, little miss half-vamp. You know I'm faster."

Renesmee slumped against the bookshelf, defeated and sick to her stomach.

"Hi Alice." She said tonelessly.

ooo

_So, how have you been?_

_ What brings you to Paris this summer?_

_ Has anyone forgiven me? Has anyone even been looking for me?_

_Did you have to move after I killed that guy?_

There was no way to begin this conversation.

Renesmee stirred her coffee, eyes fixed firmly on the tablecloth. Alice wasn't saying anything either; apparently she wanted this to be as painful as possible. Minutes went by.

"So," Alice said abruptly. Renesmee looked up in surprise to find her aunt gazing at her with mild interest. "I'm assuming from that ridiculous name you gave yourself that you swam here?"

Renesmee snorted nervously. "Um… not really. I stowed away on an oil freighter."

Alice shook her head. "Dorianne Teintée? Really? You clearly get your flair for the dramatic from your father."

Renesmee bristled. "As difficult as it may be to understand, I was a lot younger eight months ago. I know it was stupid, all right?"

"Calm down, Nessie, for heaven's sake. Apparently you left your sense of humor somewhere between France and Seattle."

Renesmee pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, Alice. I'm just…unprepared for this."

"I'm sure you are. I'll have you know, however, that I've only had a few more hours to think about this than you have."

Renesmee's brow furrowed. "You weren't looking for me?"

"No, I was buying my fall wardrobe. Having the time of my life, actually, until I had to start tracking this annoying little blind spot."

Renesmee was so grateful for Alice's casual tone that she almost kissed her. Suddenly, talking to her aunt seemed a lot more possible. It was already clear that Alice wasn't going to drag her home.

"Look, Alice, I'm sorry. I know what I did. I know how much I hurt everyone, but…"

"Nessie," Alice interrupted sharply, "be quiet."

Renesmee bit her lip and obeyed.

Alice took a deep breath and fixed her with a determined stare. "Renesmee Carlie Cullen, I know what it's like to be the one telling people things they don't want to hear. I'm sure you don't see what happened between us that way, but if there's one thing I could do for you in the next hour, I would make you understand that you _didn't do anything wrong._"

"Alice, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Language, Nessie. Look…this is important, and I need you to understand. That day, when…" Alice swallowed. Nessie gripped the arm of her chair so tightly she felt it snap. She pried her fingers loose one by one and concentrated on not jumping from her seat and finding a new city to start over in. She grabbed her coffee cup and downed it, realizing too late that she hadn't added any sugar.

After a moment, Alice continued. "That day, when you stood in the dining room and told your parents exactly what you thought of them…Ness, you were _right._ You were right and they needed to hear it. I won't speak for them, but I know that we owe you an apology, and I'm giving you mine."

Renesmee studied the tablecloth, hoping Alice wouldn't notice her rapid blinking and trembling lips. It sucked being the only one who could cry.

"Nessie, look at me."

Damn.

She lifted her eyes and met her aunt's gaze, letting the tears spill over and slide down her face.

"Nessie, I am so sorry that we didn't know how to take care of you. I am so sorry that we didn't understand. I am so sorry that we didn't treat you with the compassion we'd all received whenever we made mistakes. You were absolutely right to be furious, and I don't blame you one bit for running away."

That did it. Renesmee covered her mouth with her hand and began sobbing in earnest, shoulders shaking with her heaving breath. God, she had missed them, all of them. And those words…she'd had no idea how badly she had needed to hear them. Alice just watched her with a sad smile, waiting patiently. For the second time in fifteen minutes, Renesmee found herself grateful for Alice's tact.

The flood subsided quickly (they were in public, after all), and Renesmee wiped her nose with her fist. She had so many questions to ask, but she was afraid of the answers and she didn't even know where to begin. "Did you move?" That seemed as good a place to start as any.

"Yes, we did, to Scotland." Alice wrinkled her nose, as though "Scotland" were somehow equivalent to "wet dog."

"What? Why?"

"Well, we needed to go somewhere, and it seemed like the best…base of operations."

"Base of operations for what?"

"A full-scale search for a certain wayward half-vampire with curly hair."

Renesmee's cheeks went up in flames. She'd wondered many times just how much trouble she had caused when she ran, and she really should have known that the Cullens would comb the universe to get back one of their own. _The golden child, no less, _she thought bitterly. Apparently her early years had made a bigger impression on everyone than her months as an adolescent harpy, if they were so eager to find her.

"We looked here." Alice muttered to herself. "I know we did. How was I supposed to know you would end up in _La Zone_? I know I raised you with better taste than that."

Renesmee chuckled. "Alice, I'm sure you'd prefer me to let a five bedroom flat in the first arrondissement, but I happen to be a little smarter than that. You and Rosalie come to Paris all the time."

Alice entered full pout mode. "Isn't a decent wardrobe worth the risk? Look at you! A few miles west and you'd have everything you needed. I _really _thought I'd given you some decent fashion sense. You look like your mother did before I got my hands on her."

Renesmee looked down at her blue blouse and long white skirt. It wasn't _that_ bad. The sandals, however…even she had to admit she'd let herself go. She sighed. "I've got other priorities, Alice."

"I bet you do. I don't suppose this _Ange des Ombres_ everyone is talking about around here has any connection to you, or anything…"

Renesmee tried to look stern. "Alice, that's none of your business. I'm doing what I have to do."

"And I admire you for it. You're making better choices than your father did, that's for sure."

"I did manage to imbibe some of what you all taught me." Renesmee said wryly.

Silence descended again. Renesmee desperately wanted to know more, and her hand twitched on the tablecloth just inches from Alice's tiny fingers. Dangerous, inchoate questions swirled in her mind, but she laid her palm flat. She had long ago taught herself that if she couldn't find the courage to say something out loud, she didn't have the right to say it at all.

"Nessie…" Alice's voice broke in on her thoughts.

"What?" she asked warily.

"I don't have to be psychic to know what you're thinking. Go ahead and ask."

Renesmee's finger twitched again. She eyed the short distance, and her hand shot out to Alice's before she could stop it. She pulled it away again, but not before the words had passed.

_How is he?_

Alice sighed. "It's kind of complicated. We were afraid it was going to be bad, like when Edward left Bella. Good for nothing, comatose, self-inflicted near-starvation and all that. But, Nessie, he's okay."

Renesmee let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Don't get me wrong, he's not _fine. _He's miserable, of course, and kind of aimless. But…well, it seems like both of you are stronger than your parents were, or more grounded…or something."

Alice looked down at the table with knitted brows. "I'm not saying this right. What I mean is, he's not _empty_, and neither are you. That's the main thing. I look at you and I see a lot of hurt, and fear, and uncertainty, but it's _you._ It's the same way with him.

"He came with us to Scotland, you know. I think he kind of hates it, but he's not there much. He goes back to La Push all the time. And whenever one of us goes looking for you somewhere we haven't looked before, he comes. You should have seen him in Thailand…he almost got thrown in jail twice."

Alice smiled at the memory. If Renesmee hadn't been fighting tears again she would have asked to hear the story, but there was a weight on her chest so heavy she couldn't open her mouth. Why did she have to want so many things she couldn't have?

As if reading her thoughts again, Alice said, "I'm clarifying my earlier statement, by the way. You weren't wrong about us, but you _were_ wrong about him."

It felt like Alice had stabbed her. "I know." she whispered.

For the first time that day, her aunt looked angry. "Don't just sit around here thinking you can't fix this, Nessie. All you have to do is come home."

"It isn't that simple."

"It _is _that simple. You just don't want it to be."

Renesmee scowled. Apparently Alice didn't understand as much as she thought she did. "Look, there are things I can't just…"

"Edward is thinking about going to the Volturi."

There was a brief pause, and then several people in the street turned their heads at the sound of smashing china.

"What did you say?" Renesmee hissed.

Alice looked impressed as she quickly disposed of the shards of Renesmee's coffee cup. "You're stronger than you used to be. I didn't know you could do that with one hand."

"Alice, don't change the subject."

"I'm not trying to. And no, before you ask, he hasn't actually said anything. But I see it sometimes. It's hazy, but it's clear enough that I know he's been entertaining the thought."

"But _why_? Why would he do something so stupid?"

Alice shrugged. "This is Edward we're talking about. He does stupid things all the time when he's feeling dramatic. We could have stayed off their map for years if he hadn't traipsed over there in a snit to get himself killed." Renesmee apparently looked like she was about to start smashing more of the tableware, because Alice got to the point very quickly. "From what I can gather he thinks they could track you and get you to come home. I know it doesn't make sense, okay? I know even better than you do because I can see exactly how it would turn out. And no, I'm not going to tell you. You don't want to know."

There were few things Renesmee feared more than the Volturi. They hung like a shadow over her childhood, the remorseless menace that had almost succeeded in killing her entire family. Her father was the only one who knew she'd never stopped dreaming about them (she couldn't exactly keep him out of her sleeping head), and he should know better than anyone that she would rather die than face them again, even if they did just benevolently drag her home by the hair. She highly doubted they would leave it at that, however.

"Nessie, you don't understand how desperate he is. There's a lot I haven't told you, mostly because I don't want to hurt you anymore than you've been hurt already…" Alice paused, but something about the look on her niece's face made her decide to continue.

"He loves you more than ever, and he's beyond desperate to talk to you again. The longer they search without finding you, the less rational he gets.

"I wasn't lying when I said I didn't come to Paris looking for you. I know I can't force you to do anything, and I know it would be stupid to try. Just think about it, all right? We're worse off without you than you think. We need you, Nessie."

She rose from the table a little too quickly, and dropped a few euros next to her intact, undrunk cup. "You don't have any more excuses." She said, pressing a small piece of paper into Renesmee's hand before she turned and left without another word.

Renesmee stared after her giant black hat until it whipped out of sight behind the _boucherie_. She couldn't believe Alice had just left like that, without a fight or anything. _She always was smarter than the rest of us_, Renesmee thought wryly. She looked down at the paper in her hand, and saw several phone numbers and an address outside of Inverness.

What the hell was she going to do?


End file.
